Archive for November, 2009|Monthly archive page

Hot Dogs and Hand Grenades

As most of you probably already know, I live very close to Hess Village. So close in fact, that when people get the crap kicked out of them, my street gets taped off while questioning ensues.

Upon one of my many adventures through Hess Village this past month, it dawned on me that I am not a typical “girl”. No no, I am not. And what is this “typical” I speak of? Well, I envision the stereotypical Hesslut to be of regular height without heels, which they do wear, with utter inability to walk gracefully. That might have something to do with the level of intoxication, but I have a feeling it’s because they’re impossible to walk in regardless. Stupid heels; but they make your butt look sooooo good!

I have never been one to dress up in a fashion in which my father would have announced, “You’re leaving the house in that?” but for some reason, that’s what Hess is all about from Wednesday to Saturday.

Our adventure took my friend Ro and I from the Corktown Tavern where we sling drinks and shots on a nightly occasion to the Lazy Flamingo where most of our friends tend to frequent. After a quick drink there, we headed to Che and my, oh my, did I feel old. I’m 26 and I felt old… is that old? I guess compared to a 19 year old, (and I’m taking they’re presence as that of legal age) I am old.. heck, I’m almost 30! And I just used heck in a sentence. Upon shotgunning our drinks so quickly to just get the fudge out of there I was slightly tipsy by this point as my liver has deteriorated since my drinking Olympics days. Off to Absinthe Lounge where the d.j.’s d.j. and the bartenders bartend and the atmosphere is always welcoming. I loves you for that Absinthe Lounge, and your outdoor patio bar has enabled my laziness of opening a door to get another drink for about a year now.

The best part of my evening was an encounter with a lady, (using term lightly) outside of the Caliegh House. (I’m sure I didn’t spell that right).

Nom Nom Nom

Nom Nom Nom

Literally, STUMBLING down the side street of Hamilton’s infamous strip of bars, Ro and I check the time and it was far too early for the level of retardedness of this girl. Like really? 12:30 is way too soon to be almost pukey drunk.. just sayin. A group of her appropriately intoxicated friends ambled behind her while she raved about the deliciousness of a hot dog she was snarfing back like it was the first meal she’d had in months. Sad. I mean, not that hot dogs aren’t a meal, ’cause they are for a bread and butter budget, but you really shouldn’t be talking about how much you love hot dogs around single horny men. A word of advice.

Then, she dropped it. I still laugh as I picture this in my mind. In a pile of leaves went her beloved hot dog, with all the fixin’s as well. Falling over to where we stood, she slurs, “Do I have ketchup on my face?”

Now, if I’d been witty, I would have taken this opportunity to embarrass the crap out of her, but having realized quickly she’d already done that for me, I told her she was good and she stumbled down the street reminiscing about her hot dog and the love she once shared with it in street meat glory.¬†This picture clearly is not an exact representation of the brief meeting we had, but I’m sure this is what she looked like an hour into the future.

Now, this is just ONE of the many stories that I have about girls at Hess Village, and as I move tomorrow, I think I might be missing out on more random nights like these. Oh girls from Hess… If I were a boy, you’d be way too easy, and if you were a lady, I wouldn’t like you to begin with, cause that’s not what Hess is about. Hess is about getting shittered to the point where recognizing your best friend is few and far between due to double vision. Thank you Hess for all the good times and all those other times that seemed good¬† until the next day when it wasn’t so much fun.

Yours truly, Amberley